CHANGE OF LIFE the valley SIX
by GStales
Summary: Sixth story in the Change of Life series
1. Chapter 1

**the valley**

_…when we find ourselves in the place just right, twill be in the valley of love and delight- simple gifts – a shaker song…_

Dillon shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. His leg was stiffening up on him again; the cold weather always seemed to remind him of its nagging soreness. He kicked his boot out from the stirrup and grimaced as he straightened the bent leg, easing the kinks from his knee and calf muscle. Buck must have been feeling his age as well. The big horse stumbled on the trail and Dillon grabbed reflexively for the saddle horn to steady himself. "Easy," was all the advice the marshal had for his horse. He pulled the collar of his jacket up around his neck. Night was coming on and it was going to be a frosty one. He knew he should give thought to finding a place to camp.

He'd be in Hayes City by tomorrow afternoon and then he would get the details of the Sharlows escape. Matt sighed to himself. He felt old and tired. The hard cold ground, dusty bedroll and small campfire would provide no consolation tonight. He let his mind drift as the horse plodded along on the trail. He was smiling and he didn't realize it. He had felt the baby move, he had held Kitty in his arms and felt the baby move; the sensation still lived in his thoughts. Several times in the last weeks Kitty had taken his hand and placed it on her expanding belly telling him to feel the baby as it moved. He had done as she asked, but had felt nothing out of the ordinary. But today, when he'd said good-bye, when he held her to him, he had felt the baby move and in that instant it became real to him. He heard himself chuckle and reached out to share the moment with another living creature. The big gelding's neck was given a little pat and rub of head, Matt saw the campsite he was looking for off to the right of the trail. He guided the horse down a slight embankment and up against an outcropping of granite. He could hear a small stream gurgling somewhere off in the distance. This was as good a spot as any to bed down for the evening. He thought glumly about all he was missing this night – a sturdy ranch house roof over his head, a home cooked meal in his stomach; a warm soft bed to keep the night's chills away and most important of all the love of his family. He untied his gear and carried it over to a level spot on the ground. He dropped it in a heap at his feet. Buck had followed him and gave his shoulder a hard nudge with his nose.

Matt reached up to remove the bridle and bit from the gelding's mouth. "Just you and me again," he told his horse. Dillon's mind filled with memories of Christopher and Kitty and the baby she carried, as he undid the cinch and removed his saddle he was filled with a longing just to be home. He realized what was bothering him tonight. For the first time he resented the badge for pulling him away from them. As he set up camp on the lonely prairie he made a suddenly simple decision. He knew this was going to be it. He didn't want to spend any more nights alone and he didn't have to. He had paid his dues to both duty and the badge and now could walk away without regrets or guilt. His priorities had changed and they centered on a small ranch outside of Dodge. His last act as a U.S. Marshal would be tracking down the Sharlows. He could picture Kitty's face when he told her his decision. Her image warmed his spirit like no campfire could even as the wind picked up and tumble weeds blew around his feet.

**GS GS GS**

He sat before the campfire with a tin mug of lukewarm coffee in his hands, and his blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He was vaguely uneasy and he suspected it all had to do with missing Kitty. He stared into the fire imagining it was the one burning in the front parlor. His mind traveled back to the ranch as he tried to conjure up a picture of what Kitty and Chris were up to. He smiled. She had been teaching the youngster to play the piano; he supposed her reluctant student was in for another lesson tonight. Dillon chuckled as he remembered a night earlier in the week. Kitty had been attempting toteach the child to play "Simple Gifts" and Matt had made the mistake of saying the song sounded vaguely familiar. Kitty had given him one of those looks, "It should Cowboy; it was our wedding song…" She had reminded inhaled deeply and tossed the last of his coffee into the fire. He squinted as he tried to remember the words. "Damn," he thought, "women put such stock in sentimental things like wedding songs."

**GS GS GS**

Tom Lynott paced back and forth within the stark confines of the Hayes City Sheriff's office. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Matt should be here by now, he thought, but even as he thought it, he knew that it was almost impossible for Dillon to have made the journey in such a short time. Still when the Marshal walked through the door an hour later, Lynott showed no surprise at his entrance. The two men exchanged the briefest of `hellos' before Tom began filling his friend in on the sketchy details of the Sharlow brothers' escape.

The prison wagon had been transporting three convicts, Ray and Howard Sharlow to Jefferson City, Missouri to stand trial and another prisoner who was being transferred to the state facility at Leavenworth, Kansas. Not much was known of the third man at this time, other than he was a two-bit bank robber, and certainly not in the same class as members of the notorious Sharlow Gang. The prison wagon had been traveling through the Smokey Hills flats on its way to Abilene, when the convicts had somehow overpowered the two guards and killed them. The wagon and its victims had been found several days after the actual escape. The prisoners had exchanged their clothing for that of the guards and were heavily armed. Lynott felt the need to remind Matt. "Pard I know they vowed to get even with you and the boy."

"Yeah," Matt nodded grimly. "But I don't think they would be headed to Dodge – at least not yet. My guess is they're holed up somewhere waiting to meet up with the rest of the gang - but where" Dillon walked to the window to stare at the street, he'd always had an instinct about matters like this, "I don't think they'd head back to the Wind River hideout." His hands wedged in his front pockets, Matt turned to look back at Lynott. The scowl on his face didn't hide the worry in his eyes. "It would help if we knew who they were with Tom; did you get a wire off to the prison? We need the name of the third convict."

"Got a wire off first thing, all we can do is sit and wait for the time being. I don't like it any more than you." Tom grumbled; he reached for a rifle on the gun rack. His hands needed something to do and cleaning a Winchester suited him more than writing a report.

**GS GS GS**

Penny Lynott busied herself with setting the table. She had to work around Matt and Tom who were already seated and had a territorial map spread out in front of them. It didn't bother Penny; she was a lawman's wife and had long ago learned the hazards of the profession. Seeing Matt reminded her of the wedding, what a pretty ceremony it had been she thought. Kitty had looked beautiful walking down the aisle and the music had been just right, Penny reflected. Without realizing it she began to quietly sing the song. Her voice was soft and sweet. Dillon looked up from the map to listen to the words. "_And when we find ourselves in the place just right, t'will be in thevalley of love and delight, when true simplicity is gained to bow andto bend we shan't be ashamed. To turn, turn will be our delight till by turning, turning we come round right_."

**GS GS GS**

The response to the wire came later that evening, as Penny Lynott was serving apple pie and coffee. There was a knock and a young man stood at the door. The envelope in his outstretched hand told his purpose. Lynott grabbed the envelope and tore it open. "The third prisoner is a fella by the name of Harold Linder. It says here that there ain't no more information available about him right now."

Matt stood up and took the telegram from Tom's hands. He read its contents and then crushed the paper in his fist. His frown deepened as he repeated the outlaw's name. "Harold Linder…"

Lynott looked at Matt, "You know him Pard?"

Matt frowned, "Something about the name, I can't put my finger on it." He shook his head. "How far did you say it was to the site of the prison wagon?"

Tom scratched his head before answering, "Well I'd say twenty to twenty- five miles. You reckon we oughta go out there and take us a looksee?"

"We gotta start somewhere."

It was first light when the two lawmen left the tidy little home. Dillon watched uncomfortably as Tom kissed Penny good-bye. It only served to remind him of the decision he'd made out on the trail. He hadn't changed his mind. A half hour passed before either man said a word. To Matt's surprise Tom's sentiments echoed his own, "It don't get no easier… leaving her…" Matt merely gave him a nod of understanding. Tom didn't require anything more than that from a friend.

It was close to sunset on Monday when they finally came upon the wreckage of the prison wagon. Both men took careful inspection of the area, looking for any clue, which might give them some idea where the Sharlows had gone. Matt scoured the ground, his keen eyes scanning for signs of extra riders and wondering if this had been a planned ambush. Too much time had passed; the harsh prairie winds had erased track and trail. The two lawmen left the scene in frustration. They headed for the town of Russell, Kansas to meet with prison officials. They needed more information about Harold Linder, and lost another few hours in the saddle.

The warden of the dreary brick walled prison had precious little to tell them about Linder. The man had been in the Russell prison for about eight months before the transfer orders came through. All of his papers had gone with him on the prisoner exchange. The guards remembered little about the run of the mill man. With him in his cell had been an elderly inmate who'd lived the last twenty years in prison. They tried to communicate with him, but his mind was gone. Discouraged and tired the two lawmen headed back to Hayes and knew another day had been wasted. Matt turned to Lynott and struggled to keep the bite from his voice, "They could be anywhere by this time… even back in Dodge."

**GS GS GS**

They were bone weary by the time they arrived back in Hayes. It was by sheer chance that they rode past the train station that morning shortly after the arrival of the 840 from Dodge. Among the passengers leaving the depot was Bertha Wagner.

"That's it!" Matt said as the light of truth came into his eyes, "Harold Linder is Harry Wagner. Why didn't I think of that before?"Dillon's exhausted mind suddenly became alive with questions. "What was Bertha doing here? If she was in town was Harry here as well, what had been in the letter that he had delivered to Bertha himself a few days ago. More importantly – what about Kitty and Christopher back home?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

Dillon quickly dismounted and came up behind the woman; roughly grabbing her arm, he spun her around to face him.

"What the…" She sputtered, she saw it was Dillon and a cold fear washed over her face, quickly she regained control over her features and voice, "Why Marshal Dillon, I never expected to see you here."

His eyes thinned; hard lines fanned from the corners, "No I don't expect you did Bertha, I think you and I need to have a little talk." Still holding onto her arm he forced her down the street toward the Sheriff's office. Grabbing the buckskin's reins Lynott followed on horseback.

Once inside the sparse office he sat her down at a worktable. A chipped mug filled with gritty left over coffee was placed in front of her. Matt rubbed a hand over his eyes, he was so tired, he could hardly see straight but anger-fueled energy. He had a need to shake the truth from this woman and it took all his will power to hold the desire in check.

Bertha played her part. She kept up the charade of helpful housekeeper and someone Dillon could trust. "Marshal, I could see she didn't need me anymore. Doncha know, I just wanted to head over to the state prison to see my Harry."The knock at the door interrupted the inquisition. Penny Lynott entered with a telegram clutched in her hand. She had been waiting their return, knowing this message was from Kitty and knowing how important it would be to Matt. She glanced at Tom seated on the edge of his desk. With trembling fingers she handed the envelope to Dillon. He looked at her with questioning eyes but wordlessly ripped open the envelope. He scanned the contents.

Holding the paper he looked up at Tom then down to Bertha, "This is from Kitty; it says here there was some trouble at the ranch. Willie Roniger was injured saving Kitty from attack by that new bull and there was a fire that destroyed part of the kitchen." Dillon was riding the edge, as pieces of the puzzle started coming together in his mind. His hands balled into white knuckled fists. "Miss Bertha," he snarled, "I think the time has come for you to tell me everything you know."

The woman dropped her kindly image like a hot poker, she let out with a chortle, "Lawman, you can't make me say a thing. What happened in Dodge was nothing more than accidents. Your wife is a careless woman, no one can prove else." The big woman boldly stood up standing almost face to face with the tall Marshal. She made a move to the door.

Matt Dillon had never in his life intentionally harmed a female, it was against his nature to do so, but this woman and what she knew was a threat to his own. He grabbed her by the arms, his grip like a vise slowly increasing pressure. His voice was threatening; the fire in his eyes seared home the words. "I've never hurt a woman but so help me God; a man's got a right to defend his family. Don't think this badge I'm wearing is going to protect you."

Bertha's eyes darted to the Sheriff in a silent plea for help. Tom Lynott made a move to step between Matt and the woman, "Now settle down some, Matt," he whispered uneasily.

Matt ignored Lynott, "I want that letter Harry sent you … now!"

Bertha's false bravado crumbled under Matt's glare. Her voice cracked as she said, "Alright just don't hurt me, I ain't got the letter no more, but I'll tell you what I know."

**GS GS GS**

Harry Wagner sat behind the window in his room at the Hayes City Hotel. His view overlooked the Sheriff's office. He had seen Dillon intercept Bertha and escort her rudely down the street. "Damn', he thought, "Bertha will squeal like a fat ol' sow." He'd already figured she had failed in her attempts to murder Dillon's woman, now she was going to spoil the rest of their plans, "But maybe not," he thought. If he could slip out of town before Dillon saw him, and get word to the Sharlows maybe, just maybe they could arrange a little welcoming committee for the big man. Harry uncorked his whiskey bottle and kicked back in his chair. His eyes kept watch for Dillon on the street below as his mind whirled with plans to kill the man who had put him in prison.

**GS GS GS**

The farm the Sharlow brothers were using as a hideout was located ten miles out of Hayes and well off the main road to Dodge. The farm's owners, an elderly couple had been savagely beaten and left tied up in the barn barely conscious of the outlaws who were eating their food and sleeping in their beds.

Harry rode cautiously toward the farmhouse his arms raised. He saw the rifle pointed out the doorway, "Howard, Ray, it's me, put down the gun."

"You alone?"

"I'm alone." Harry reassured.

"Get off that pony real slow"

Harry did as instructed and carefully paced his steps to the house. Howard Sharlow eyed the man guardedly. "What went wrong?" he asked.

"Dillon."

Ray Sharlow took careful aim with a wad of chew, "Hell, I'm damn tired of that badge."

Harry shook his head, I don't know how he knew, but he was there when Bertha got off the train today, I saw him walk her down the street and shove her in the jail house, I know that bitch, she told Dillon everything."

Howard Sharlow took his gun from its holster; he made a show of spinning the cylinder then took aim as if Dillon were right in front of him, "I'm fixin to blow that bastard out of our lives once and fer all."

Wagner's face screwed into an evil smirk, "I thought you'd see it like that Howie, I know just the place to do it too, Shawnee Pass, about ten miles outa Dodge. We hide there, and just pick Dillon off as he rides by; course it ain't near as good as what we had planned."

Ray Sharlow nodded, "Yup, let's be done with him for good, I'm ready to get the hell outa Kansas, I have a hankering for some of them Mexican senoritas…" The men's lecherous laughter rang out and was heard by the elderly man and his wife, tied up in the barn.

**GS GS GS**

The little boy's cries reached her ears and woke her from her own uneasy sleep. Sara Greenwood had haunted Kitty's dreams that night. The gentle spirit had come only close enough to whisper, "You must be strong, be strong…" It was then that Kitty heard her child cry out and she rose from the bed to hurry to his side. Though his nightmarescame less frequently they still had the power to terrify the child and remind him of the reality of his parent's death. Kitty fleetingly thought, "Is this what Sara was trying to tell me? I need to be strong for Christopher?" She shook that thought from her head. She didn't believe in ghosts or angels and thought no Devine Intervention could change the road her life traveled.

The baby she carried was not a heavy burden, but still it slowed her steps, so that by the time she reached the child's side he was in the complete grip of a night terror. He failed to recognize her soft voice or comforting hands. His terror finally gave way to exhausted sobs and then as suddenly as the terror had started it was over. His sleep became calm and peaceful. She sat in the chair by his bed to gaze at him, watching the delicate rise and fall of his chest. She wondered if he would remember the nightmare in the morning and prayed that he would not.

The day before had been busy and she thought maybe that was why both she and Chris had been bothered by bad dreams. She had spoken to Bent Dillard and had made arrangements regarding the purchase of another bull. Bent had shaken his head in disbelief when he learned the fate of the prized animal. Later, she had sent a short telegram to Hayes to notify Matt of the bull's demise and the kitchen fire. She had hired Bent's oldest boy Andrew to work on the roof repairs and keep an eye on the ranch. She had done everything she could to get things back the way they should be by the time Matt got home again.

She wrapped a shawl around her shoulder to ward off the early morning's chill. This would be a big day for all of them. It was the day before Thanksgiving. The school was preparing for their big Parent's Night. Kitty had spent the previous afternoon helping decorate the building. Miss Burrow had confided to Kitty that Christopher's essay on his family had been selected as the best in his grade and he would be called upon to read it to the assembly. Kitty had asked him later what he had written but he had told her she would just have to wait until the evening with the rest of the parents. "I sure wish Marshal would get back in time. Do you think he will Miss Kitty?"

She had given him a hug. "I hope so Chris, but I wouldn't get my hopes too high if I were you, but Doc, Festus and Newly will be there." He had brightened a little at that thought. She knew he still felt guilty about the piss apple raid, and wanted Matt to hear the words he would read aloud to somehow make up for the wrong he had done. Now in the middle of this long night, she got up out of the chair and walked to the window to gaze at the starry sky. If she were a woman given to tears she would be sobbing now; loneliness was like a physical pain. She thought of all the nights she had spent waiting for him to return home. She should be used to it by now… but not tonight.

**GS GS GS**

The telegram Matt sent to Dodge was brief and to the point. In it Dillon warned his deputies to be on the lookout for the Sharlows whom he now believed were headed for Dodge. It was with a sense of urgency that Matt prepared to head home as well.

"Mount up." Dillon ordered as he handed Bertha the reins.

"I can't ride a horse all the way back to Dodge City." She wailed.

"I said get on the horse."

She climbed a top a docile chestnut gelding as Dillon looked at her with hard eyes daring her to make a wrong move. He and Lynott mounted up after her and the trio left Hayes. Bertha rode up ahead of the lawmen, and knew every twitch she made was being watched. She felt some shame for all she'd told Matt Dillon; however she hadn't confessed everything and hadn't revealed the letter from Harry outlining their plan to take over Dodge City and make its citizens watch the execution of Matt Dillon. Bertha knew the lawman would see to it she served jail time for her efforts to do away with his wife and her only hope was somehow the Sharlows and Harry could set her free before they got to Dodge. Along the trail, all through the moonlit night, she complained she was going to be ill if they didn't stop soon. "It ain't right, we gotta stop; a lady needs to rest."

Lynott said, "Shut up."

Dillon snarled, "Keep riding."

The long trip seemed to be an uneventful ride. It was a calm clear night with only Tom's whistling to break the quiet. Matt smiled, Lynott was whistling Simple Gifts. It seemed he couldn't get away from the song. Dillon allowed himself a moment of relaxation and that had been his mistake, for he had glanced into the starry sky and thoughts of Kitty materialized in his mind's eye.

Shots rang out. Both lawmen saw the flashes of blazing gun smoke as they bolted from their horses to take cover in the darkness. Lynott was hit almost immediately and Matt heard him fall to the ground with a sickening thud. Bertha was knocked from the saddle as a bullet struck her. Matt took cover behind a large rock and fired away, using only the flashes from the hostile guns as a mark. He heard Wagner scream as a bullet seared through his flesh, the outlaw's cries filled the night. Ray Sharlow called to his brother to cover him as he ran a weaving path toward Dillon. Matt took aim at the oncoming shadow and fired. His bullet took Ray in the chest; the force sent him flying backward. It was just Howard Sharlow and Dillon now. "Put the gun down." Matt ordered.

"You're the big man Dillon, you come get me." The outlaw dared.

Matt heard Lynott's low moan and saw him ever so slowly reach for his revolver, "Give it up Sharlow. You can't get out of here alive." Dillon called out to the desperate man in an effort to keep Sharlow's attention diverted from Tom Lynott. Matt could see the gun in Lynott's hand and from the corner of his eye he watched him rise painfully to his knees. Tom had a clear shot at the outlaw. He aimed and fired. Sharlow grunted at the impact of the bullet, and then fell silent. The gun dropped from Lynott's fingers. He didn't notice that it fell near Bertha's body. Tom made the effort to get to his feet, but he grabbed his shoulder as shock and pain surged through his body. He staggered on unsteady legs, but continued to move toward Matt.

Matt with his gun still drawn made his way out into the open to reach his wounded friend. He wrapped his arm around Tom and led him to a boulder that had served as his cover; gently he set his friend down on the makeshift stool, before reaching into his pocket to grab a clean handkerchief to place over the Sheriff's bleeding shoulder. "It doesn't look too bad Tom," Matt said calmly. "We'll get you back to Dodge and Doc will fix you up." Neither man had realized Bertha Wagner was stirring behind them.

She had lain motionless for a long moment after the gunplay ended. She realized when she recognized the voices of the lawmen that the Sharlows and Harry must be dead. "Couldn't anything kill Dillon?" she wondered. She was a good distance away from him with his back turned. Lynott's gun was within reach. Her vision kept fading in and out along with the night sounds of the living world. She knew it would be her dying act, but she vowed then and there take Dillon to hell with her. Her fingers inched toward the weapon until it was in her grasp. She raised the gun with all the strength she had left; her hand trembled as she pulled the trigger and the weapon fired. The bullet hit Matt square in the lower back. His body slammed against Lynott at the impact. Forgetting his own pain Tom grabbed Dillon and fell with him to the hard packed dirt floor of Shawnee Pass. Bertha Wagner watched Dillon hit the ground, her lips curled in a cruel grin as she died.


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

Dillon lay motionless on the ground. Tom knelt next to his friend unsure if he was alive and half scared to find out. "Pard?" he gasped. Waves of nausea swept over Lynott, threatening to overtake and drown him. He fought to keep consciousness, blinking his eyes hard and struggling to see in the darkness. Rolling Dillon over he looked at the wound; it didn't take a medical degree to know this was very serious. Matt groaned, confirming life. "Hang on …" Tom encouraged, "I'll ride to Dodge for help." Using the rock he pulled himself up, but as he stood, he was enveloped in a thundering blackness, and fell to the ground unconscious.

The warmth of the noon day sun brought strength to Lynott's torn body; he slowly regained his senses. His shoulder throbbed and any movement sent little shocks of pain to pulsate through muscle and sinew. The memory of last night's ambush gradually returned. He opened his eyes to squint into the sunshine. Matt lay where he'd dropped. Lynott reached a hand out to touch his friend, finding the flesh clammy and warm. His grasp lingered on Dillon's arm; hoping the gentle touch could convey what his words could not.

He forced himself to his knees, swaying he took a moment for the world to keep focus then stood; he made his way to the boulder and sat there for a spell. Gasping for breath he held a hand against his bloody shoulder. His eyes traveled over the destruction of last night's ambush. Dillon's buckskin was the only horse in sight. The animal appeared to have been grazed by a bullet. A trail of blood ran from his right flank and down his leg. Lynott gave a low whistle trying to imitate the sound he had heard Matt use to call the horse. The gelding's ears perked forward and he moved toward the sound. The big horse stopped in front of the wounded lawman, his head lowered and he nuzzled Tom as if looking for some kind of reassurance. Lynott grimaced as he reached to stroke the animal, "Ol son, looks like me and you got us some hard traveling to do. Using the horse he pulled himself to his feet. He reached for Dillon's canteen and took a long drink. "Wish he had something stronger," he confided to Buck, whose ears twitched in response. The liquid renewed him, His feet seemed steadier and the fog lifted a bit from his brain. He moved from the horse to Dillon's side, taking the canteen with him.

"Matt," he said, "I gotta get some of this water in you." Wetting his kerchief with the liquid he ran the cloth over Dillon's face wiping away the dirt and sweat. Matt's eyes opened briefly and Lynott thought he saw a flicker of recognition. He lifted his friend's head and raised the canteen to his mouth letting the liquid slowly pass through Matt's lips. He took the bedroll off the saddle and covered him offering the only shelter he could in this bleak situation. He paused one last moment to take Matt's hand in his. "Hang on, just hang on, I'll be back with help."

It took all his strength to pull himself up to the saddle and once more he swayed dangerously as oblivion jeopardized his consciousness. Lynott stubbornly willed himself to stay awake and in control. Tom's fierce pride wouldn't let Matt Dillon die without a fight. Dodge was ten miles away. Tom Lynott had no doubt it would be the longest journey he and the wounded horse would ever make, he prayed he'd live to tell Dillon about it one day.

**GS GS GS**

Christopher stood in front of the mirrored dressing table in his little room at Ma Smalley's boarding house. The paper he held in his hands shook a little bit as he imagined the audience of parents he would soon be facing, "My Family, by Christopher Thaddeus Greenwood." He practiced.

There was a knock at the door, and Miss Kitty's head poked around the corner, "May I come in?" she asked.

"Sure," he replied with a happy smile on his face. She walked in with a freshly ironed shirt and a new string tie for him to wear.

"Would you like me to listen to you read your essay?" she offered.

His impish grin made her smile, "No you don't Miss Kitty! You're not going to hear this until everyone else does."

"Okay little Cowboy, but I think it's time for you to jump into the bath tub. I want you to scrub…"

"Do I have to?"

"Yes you have to, and don't forget the soap!"

**GS GS GS**

Festus had been riding slowly up and down the streets of Dodge City keeping a keen lookout for any sign that might indicate trouble. Matthew's telegram hadn't told them much. He met Burke coming from the opposite direction, "all quiet to the West Festus," he reported.

"Well you just keep your eyeballs peeled Burke, I got me an important social fun-chin to attend to, I'll be seeing you di-rectly."

**GS GS GS**

The schoolhouse was packed to standing room only. All eyes directed to the front of the classroom as Miss Burrows announced the names of the essay winners. "And the Best Writer Award for the Second Grade goes to Christopher Greenwood, son of Marshal and Mrs. Matt Dillon.

There was applause as Christopher made his way to the front of the room. Festus whistled between his teeth and Doc stood up clapping as hard as he could. His old eyes reflecting the affection he had for the boy. Christopher had come to him when the teacher had first given out the assignment. The little boy was unsure if he had a real family to write about, at least not like the families of the other kids in school. Dr. Adams had gently helped him work through the essay, "Let me tell you something young fella, family doesn't have to be blood. They just have to love and care about you. That's what makes a family – love. You know there was a time when I felt a might sorry for myself, I'd look around and I'd see other men my age with a wife, and children and grandkids and I'd realize I'd given my life to medicine while other folks had been living theirs – then it came to me how I had a family, there were folks who looked up to me, cared about me, and respected my opinion enough to ask for my advise…" he smiled pointedly at Christopher "and suddenly it didn't seem so important I'd taken a different path than other folks, because along the way I'd picked up a family to be proud of."

Now Christopher's big moment had arrived. His cheeks were flushed by nervousness but he handled the situation with all the confidence of an experienced orator. He wet his lips and cleared his throat. He straightened his spine and stood tall.

_My Family_

_by Christopher Thaddeus Greenwood._

_I have a big family that is filled with many people who love me. I have a mama and papa who look down from heaven each day to make sure I am happy and taken care of. I have Marshal and Miss Kitty who have known me since I was a baby and every day they make me feel special and like I belong._

_Sometimes I have nightmares, but Miss Kitty is always there to help turn my bad dreams into good ones. She says everyday she is with me I make her happy and that makes me feel good inside._

_Marshal never gets really mad at me, but sometimes he has to work at that. He doesn't talk to me like I'm a little kid, and when he asks me what I think I know he really wants to know what I think. Just being with him makes me want to be better. When I grow up I want to be just like him and my Papa and wear a badge._

_Uncle Festus isn't really my uncle but I know I can always count on him and he is always ready to take me fishing. Uncle Newly always has time to answer my questions and show me how things work. For a Grandpa I have Doctor Adams. He is the doctor who helped Mama when I was born. If I have a problem he will always listen to me and help me figure my problem out. He is my best friend. Then there is Mr. Sam at the Long Branch, he is like an uncle too, he always smiles at me and that makes me feel good. Mr. and Mrs. Roniger are part of my family too. When I am with them they treat me just like I was one of their own children._

_My family is different from most families, but the important thing is my family loves me and I love them._

The schoolhouse was quiet for a beat before the applause began. Miss Burrow came up to stand behind the little boy; she let her fingers rest lightly on his shoulders as he glanced up to her face. She smiled down at him, "Good job Chris!"

Taking a hanky from her bag, Kitty dabbed at her eyes. Doc reached over and gave her hand a pat. Festus puffed out his chest with pride, Kitty caught Bessie's eye from across the room she was met by a smile and wink. Susan Bart Harris was watching her as well. There was a surprising mixture of envy and respect on her face. She'd come to the event as a guest of Sterling and his children who had arrived back in Dodge that week.

When the final student had read his essay, Miss Burrow directed the guests to the refreshment table. It was loaded with punch and cookies. Bessie made her way through the crowd to stand by Kitty, "You must be so proud."

Kitty nodded, "He is quite a boy isn't he Bess?" She looked over to Chris as he munched on a cookie while Festus pumped his hand in congratulation. Her smile dimmed in sadness as hope of Matt making it to Christopher's big night faded wistfully away. Unconsciously she shrugged her shoulders to ease the tension building there, she couldn't shake a nagging worry that Dillon was in trouble.

**GS GS GS**

The streets of Dodge were quiet as Lynott and Buck limped into town. Tom's mind was clouded and fuzzy from pain and exhaustion but he fleetingly wondered where everyone was. The streets were nearly abandoned. It couldn't be that late. Nathan Burke saw the buckskin and felt a moment's relief as he thought Marshal Dillon had made it back home. But Burke quickly saw something was seriously wrong. This wasn't Dillon. He watched as the buckskin stumbled to a halt at Hank's stable. The unknown rider fell from the horse to the ground. Burke ran across the street as Louie Pheeters rushed from the barn to kneel by the injured man, "Who is it Louie?"

"It's Mr. Lynott, what do you suppose he's doing riding the Marshal's horse?"

"Get Doc Bledsoe, he's at the school house, Get Festus too, but don't let on that something's wrong, we'd best not upset Miss Kitty."

Pheeters half ran and half stumbled down Front Street. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, and his mind was racing in worried confusion. He was breathing hard by the time he entered the schoolhouse. Doc Adams had noticed Louie and became immediatelyconcerned by his difficult breathing and flushed face. He rushed over to him, insisting he sit down, and not allowing him to speak until his breathing evened out. Finally he asked, "Louie, what's wrong?"

"Oh Doc, something awful has happened, I just know it. Sheriff Lynott rode in on the Marshal's horse. Sheriff Lynott's been shot."


	4. Chapter 4

**Four**

Amid the hubbub of Parent's Night and the Harvest Festival, Festus Hagen had noticed Louie Pheeter's arrival too. He sashayed across the room exchanging hasty greetings with those he passed until he arrived at the doctor's side in time to hear Louie's news. Hagen turned to Adams, hoping for reassurance and guidance, "Doc?"

"Get John Bledsoe and meet me at my office," Adams ordered tersely, he paused only long enough to spot Kitty across the room happily engaged in conversation with the other parents. He left quickly before she noticed anything was amiss. He didn't want to consider what lay ahead for her and the baby if something had happened to Matt.

The old man hurried across town and caught up with Burke and Hank and a few other men as they carried the unconscious Lynott up to his office. He took charge immediately and instructed the men to lay the injured man on the examining table. Doc stood over the lawman, performing a hasty examination. After expertly gauging the extent of his injuries, Adams gave the lawman a gentle shake, "Tom, where's Matt?"

Reality slowly brought Lynott back. He felt Doc Adams competent hands gently probing his wounded shoulder, "Here Tom, drink this…" The old man ordered holding a small shot glass to his lips.

The strong liquid stimulated his senses momentarily, he tried to sit up but the pain held him back. A throbbing paroxysm twisted through his body, after a moment he muttered, "We gotta get Matt…"

"Where's Matthew?" Festus asked. So intent was he on his patient that Adams hadn't heard the tell-tale jingle of his jangle-bob Buermann spurs coming up behind him. He turned his head only briefly acknowledging Hagen's presence, figuring Newly and Bledsoe would soon be following.

Lynott's voice was weak and they had to lean closer to hear, "He's been shot, took a bullet to the back … ten miles out … Shawnee Pass… Sharlows… sonsabitches…" he struggled painfully to say more but he couldn't, a moment later the narcotic drew him into a comforting abyss. Doc and Festus looked at each other in bitter realization. They didn't need to calculate the odds of Matt still being alive out on the lonely prairie.

The office door burst open as Newly O'Brien and John Bledsoe rushed inside. "What did you find out Festus?"

"It shore don't look good, 'pears them Sharlows bushwhacked Matthew and ol' Tom at Shawnee Pass."

Newly's face was grim, "I'll get the horses." Turning to the young doctor he said, `You'd better come with us John."

Doc continued to work on Lynott's shoulder not taking the time to look up he advised, "Take a wagon with you." Newly agreed and hurried out the door.

Dr. Bledsoe rushed about the small office rifling through cabinets as he gathered together emergency supplies. He paused before heading out the door. "What about Mrs. Dillon, will you talk to her Galen? Prepare her for…"

Doc didn't wait for John to finish his sentence he couldn't bear to hear the words. "I'll talk to her…" The younger man knew some of the history these people shared, and the bond stronger than blood that held them together. He wanted to reach out to Adams, but he wasn't sure he had the right to. As for Doc he focused on his business and pushed the image of a dying friend from his mind.

Lynott's wound was infected so he had to work carefully. He cut away the dead skin and safely extracted the bullet lodged up against the shoulder socket. He poured disinfectant into the wound and stitched the gaping hole back together. All he could do now was to wait for Lynott's body to make up for the lost blood. He would be unconscious for several hours if he were lucky - blessed sleep to cut short hours of anguished waiting for news on the fate of a friend.

Doc took the opportunity to leave Tom for a brief moment to walk across the alley to the Long Branch. Pushing through the swinging doors he moved up to the bar where Sam was pouring drinks, "Can you stop up at the office I need to talk to you?"

The old man said nothing more, he turned to leave and Sam knew what ever was going on must involve Miss Kitty. Hannah had overheard Doc's request. She quickly waved Sam out of the door before he could ask for a break. He removed his apron and followed Adams to his office. The tall haggardly bartender didn't say a word as he entered the room. He looked only briefly at Lynott stretched out on the table in the center of the room.

"Matt and Tom were ambushed on their way back to Dodge last night, Festus and Newly have gone out there to bring Matt home."

"Is he… dead?"

Doc ran a tired hand across his moustache and looked away from Sam for a moment, "Lynott wasn't able to tell us much, only that he was shot in the back. Sam…" Doc turned back to look his friend in the eye, "He's been lying out there since early this morning… I don't know, I just don't want to think about his chances."

"Does Miss Kitty know?"

Shaking his head Adams replied, "Not yet, Sam, I'd like you to go to the schoolhouse and bring her back here."

Sam was quiet for a moment and then he spoke hesitantly, "We won't know anything until morning, will we Doc? Can't we just let her have this night?"

Doc sat down heavily in his office chair and closed his eyes tightly for a moment. He didn't know what was best, he felt tired and drained and yet he knew the real ordeal lay ahead. "Sam…"

"What would it hurt?" Sam insisted, "There's nothing she can do to change anything."

Adams was torn, but he knew Sam was right about one thing, she couldn't change what the men found at Shawnee Pass; finally he nodded in reluctant agreement. "I'd like you to be with me when I tell her."

Sam's big wrinkled hand reached out to grasp Doc's stooped shoulder, "I'll be there, she'll need all of us and we won't let her down." Adams sighed wearily as Sam turned and quietly went out the door and back down the steps. As the door closed the doctor pushed himself up from the chair and went back to his work. He lifted the sheriff's wrist and checked his pulse and other vital signs. As a man of medicine it was all he could do for the time being. He saw his tattered old Bible lying in the bottom of his medical bag and he reached for it. He returned to his desk to search the old book for comfort and prayer. As a man of faith it was all he could do for Matt Dillon.

**GS GS GS**

Christopher Greenwood was a happy little boy. The night had been perfect. The only thing, which had spoiled it, was the fact Marshal wasn't there. He held Miss Kitty's hand as they walked down Front Street to Ma Smalley's.

"Chris, I was so proud of you tonight. What a wonderful job you did. Marshal will be mighty proud too, when you read your piece for him." Kitty predicted.

The little boy glowed at her praise; "I was a little scared when I started to read." He admitted.

"You were?" she responded letting him hear the surprise in her voice, "I never would have guessed it little Cowboy."

Chris nodded and smiled up at her, "Yup, but then I remembered what Marshal told me about courage."

She smiled back and asked. "What was that?"

"Well he told me that courage doesn't mean you're not afraid, but it means you hafta stand up to your fears to do the right thing." He explained.

"That sounds like something Matt would say," she agreed and thought of her husband with pride. "He's exactly right." They walked past Hank's stable and Kitty noticed the lamp was still burning She was about to say something to Chris when she noticed the buckskin out of the corner of her eye. "Chris!" she exclaimed. "He must be back!" She pointed toward the horse barn.

"He is, Miss Kitty he is!" The youngster broke from her hand and ran to the stable.

Louie Pheeters looked up from his work as the child ran in followed by Mrs. Dillon. He had been carefully applying balm to the horse's wound. Buck's great head hung low and he barely moved at the sound of their excited voices. Kitty looked at Matt's horse in alarm.

"Why Louie, what happened to Buck?" She ran her hand tenderly across the horse's muzzle rubbing upward to the spot between his ears. The gelding closed his eyes and relaxed at her touch.

"Oh Miss Kitty… Sheriff Lynott rode the Marshal's horse in to town tonight," he confessed mournfully.

Her eyes grew suddenly large with impending fear, "Where is Tom now? Louie …where's Matt?"

"Sheriff Lynott's up at Doc's, he was shot." Louie couldn't meet her eyes as tears formed in his own.

Her heart was hammering so hard in her chest that for a moment it was all she could hear. "Louie…? Where's Matt?"

The old drunk tried to escape her soul-piercing gaze. He busily went back to work with quivering fingers as he dabbed the salve against the horse's injured flesh. There was a tremor to his words when he finally answered her, "Oh Miss Kitty, Festus and Mr. Newly took a wagon out to fetch him."

Her body was shaking to the beat of her pounding heart, "He's hurt? Where Louie, where did they go to fetch him? "

"They took Doc Bledsoe with 'em."

She remembered Christopher by her side and glanced down at the confused little boy; she impulsively reached out and drew him against her in a protective one-armed embrace. "Do you know," she swallowed back her fear, "where they were headed?"

Louie's sad eyes peered over the horse's withers, "Sheriff Lynott said something about Shawnee Pass."

"How long ago did they leave?"

"About an hour ago."

She took a deep shaky breath, willing her heart to slow its wild pace, panic had never served her well, and she wouldn't allow it now. She had to get Chris back to Ma Smaley's for whatever lay in front of her would be her battle and not for the boy to see. Reaching across the horse she rested her fingers on Pheeter's hand. "Thank you for telling me Louie, you take good care of Buck now." She smiled softly at him.

Louie Pheeters loved Miss Kitty and a part of his heart had broken at telling her the news, "Miss Kitty, I'm awful sorry."

"I know you are. We've got to go now, come on Chris." She struggled to remain strong for the young boy's benefit. She took him by the hand and forced herself to walk at a leisurely pace back to the boarding house. Chris glanced up at her every few strides but remained quiet, sensing the seriousness of the situation. A short while later she had him settled in bed.

She did her best to reassure him. "I'm sure he'll be alright, don't you worry now." She summoned a smile and continued, "You've had a big day and you need your sleep, we'll see Marshal in the morning, I promise." She stayed by his side until she was sure he'd fallen asleep then tiptoed out of the room as quietly as she could. She needed answers and knew who would have them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Five**

The streets of Dodge were quiet; not even the tinkling of bar room pianos could be heard from the boardwalk. Tiny flames in the overhead gas lanterns flickered as the wind picked up. Kitty pulled her cloak tightly around her against the November night's chill. The effort did little to warm her, for it wasn't the temperature, which caused her to shiver but the thought of her husband. She couldn't shake the image of Matt lying helpless and alone on this frosty night.

Adams heard the feminine footsteps coming up the stairs and knew somehow Kitty had found out. She didn't knock but came straight in. The sight of Tom sitting at the desk chair his arm in a sling was the first image she saw. His face had a waxen look to it and his eyes were blurred and shadowed. He tightly clutched a mug of coffee in his right hand as though it were his salvation.

Her eyes darted from Lynott to Adams, his rumpled clothes and worried face told much of the story, "Where's Matt? What's happened to him?" she demanded, with an edge to her voice that dared honesty. Doc had hurried to her and tried to lead her to the rocking chair he'd occupied, but she pulled away, "Don't coddle me and don't lie to me, I want to know what's going on… now!"

Lynott shifted uneasily in his chair, but Doc held her eyes and replied with an even voice, "I wouldn't insult you with a lie, but I'm not going to tell you anything until you sit down."

For a brief moment she defied him. A wild look flashed in her eyes and then quickly subsided as fear regained its stronghold. Taking her by the arm again Doc led Kitty to the chair. He waited until she'd lowered herself to the seat. She looked up at him with enormous eyes full of hope, and he hated what he was forced to reveal, "Matt and Tom were returning from Hayes with Bertha Wagner."

"Bertha? In Hayes? Why? How?"

The doctor felt older than his advanced years, "She was trying to kill you, you see… those accidents … the gunshots and runaway horse, the bull, the fire … they weren't really accidents it was all part of her doing." Kitty's eyes narrowed and she shook her head back and forth slowly in disbelief. Doc continued, "Her husband Harry met up with the Sharlows in prison. They devised a plan to get back at Matt and that included killing you."

Lynott took over, "Somehow that bunch found out about us having Bertha in custody, they were all set up and waiting for us to come through. When we hit Shawnee Pass all hell broke loose, Matt took a bullet in his back." Tom Lynott carried a world of hurt on his shoulders and telling the truth didn't lighten the load, "Kitty there wasn't much I could do for him but to get back to Dodge for help…" his words trailed away as the feeling of being powerless returned to him.

It was like the return of an all too familiar nightmare, she pressed her eyes shut, hoping to dim the image in her mind; Matt with a bullet in his back, their lives together shattered. "So what Louie told me was true? Festus and Newly took John Bledsoe out there to bring Matt home?" Doc nodded gently to answer her question. Her voice was hushed, barely audible, "But we don't know if he is alive … or…" she paused a moment and tried to gather her courage. She continued in a stronger voice. "How long until they'll be back?"

"Sometime around dawn, I would guess," he answered. He glanced up at the clock on the wall - it was just after midnight.

Lynott cleared his throat before speaking, "Ma'am you should be getting your sleep, I know Matt wouldn't want you up all night a worryin' about him."

She turned her auburn head to look at Matt's friend; there was a hint of a smile to her voice when she said, "If it was you lying out there, what do you think Penny would be doing."

His sigh was heavy, he nodded in surrender and said, "Ma'am, she'd be doin' what you're a doin, just what you're a doin…" Doc shook his head at her and his tone allowed no room for argument. "Now just see here young lady, you're not going to put your health and the baby's at risk. I understand you have to be here, but you are going to lie down on my bed, get some rest at least, I'll let you know just as soon as he gets here."

She allowed him to escort her to his private room knowing it was useless to disagree. It was a small space, not much bigger than a cubbyhole, one wall was dominated by bookshelves and in the corner stood a single size brass bed covered with one of Bessie Roniger's colorful crazy quilts, no doubt a payment on a medical bill incurred by one of the family.

The pillowcases smelled of fresh laundering and bleach. Doc watched in compassion as she lay down on his bed. He sat down alongside her and reached for her hand, much the way she had with Christopher. His voice was above all, kind, "You just rest now," he said simply. "You have to – for the baby, for Matt's baby." Their eyes held each other's for an instant before he got up and left her alone in the room.


	6. Chapter 6

**Six**

Shawnee Pass was just a wide spot on the road between Dodge and Hayes. The place had been a favorite hunting sight for the Indians of the area. They would sit patiently amongst the boulders all day and wait for the antelope to come drinking from the hidden spring. Black obsidian flakes littered the ground where they had meticulously chipped arrowheads against the flat rocks. On the rare moments U.S. Marshal Dillon drifted in and out of consciousness, he knew where he was. He figured he'd most likely die at Shawnee Pass. The errant thought occurred to him – it would be remembered for something else from now on.

**GS GS GS**

He had felt the impact of the bullet, its intensity forcing air from his lungs as he fell into Lynott's arms. The earth had met his body like a second blow. He'd felt the pain that sent waves of spasms coursing through his limbs. The sensation was familiar. He knew at once he'd taken the bullet in his spine. The last thing he saw before blackness came were the stars in the sky, and the last thing he thought of was Kitty.

**GS GS GS**

The warmth of the midday sun irritated the skin of his cheek and forehead; his sweat ran into his eyes. He'd felt Tom Lynott's hand on his arm and had heard a jumbled murmur of sounds meant to reassure. He'd felt the damp cloth on his face cooling the fever that was beginning to rage in his body. He had tasted the water forced through his lips. Then Tom was gone and he was alone. Time lost meaning and movement brought pain. He knew his life was slipping from him and he tried with all his strength to hang on. He fought the darkness that drew him farther and farther away from his thoughts of Kitty. It was the thoughts of Kitty, which became his sustenance. When all other exercise of brain and heart failed, he held tight to the memory of the promise of their last embrace. Daylight dissolved into night and with it came the cold. Chills assaulted his body as the fever gained its bastion of strength. It became harder for him to focus now, and it seemed the only thing he could focus on was the pain, which gradually became his only reality. Then even the pain was gone and there was nothing.

**GS GS GS **

Bertha Wagner's corpse was the first body they saw, when the wagon finally crested the hill. The gun she'd shot Matt with was still in her hand. As soon as Festus spotted Dillon he jumped from his mule and ran to his friend's side.

"Don't try to move him." Bledsoe shouted as he climbed down from the wagon.

"Matthew!" Festus said soothingly, "We come to take you home." Dillon lay quiet, motionless. The young Doctor had grabbed his medical bag and moved to the lawman's side. As Newly held a lantern overhead, John Bledsoe examined the wounded Marshal. "How is he Doctor?" Festus asked finally.

"I don't know Mr. Hagen, he has a pulse, albeit weak, he is alive, but…" the young doctor looked grimly into the lantern light,

"But what?" Newly prompted.

"I don't know if he can survive the trip back to Dodge…" John said frankly.

"What are ya fixen to do then, we aint a gonna just leave him here…" Festus wrapped his hand over Dillon's forearm protectively.

"No Mr. Hagen, I'm not suggesting that, it's just that whatever we do… he's been injured very badly, the bullet has been in his body over twenty hours…"

"Well I know what I'm a fixing to do, I'm a gonna get ol' Matthew back to Doc. He'll take care of him and there won't be no wondering what he should and shouldn't a oughter do."

Nodding his head to Hagen the younger man said, "Let's take him then." The situation was hopeless as far as Dr John Bledsoe could determine. He didn't say so aloud but he knew they had nothing to lose. The Marshal had already defied the odds to even be alive at this point. All the young surgeon had learned in Medical School warned him his patient would not survive to see the morning light. Dillon's gambling run of luck was up. He figured it was as simple as that.

Between the three men they slid Matt onto a board strapped to a stretcher and then carried him to the wagon. Bledsoe climbed into the back beside the unconscious Dillon while his deputies debated the merits of burying the Sharlow gang. Festus figured they'd all be in hell by now, so the buzzards could have first crack at their carcasses for all he cared. Newly didn't argue with him, and they headed for home with their precious cargo. John Bledsoe's muscles cramped as he knelt awkwardly over Dillon struggling to hold the Marshal's body as still as possible as the wagon bounced over unseen ruts in the road.

The sky was turning an eerie shade of violet as the moon gave way to sun. Dodge City was coming to life as the wagon carrying Matt Dillon rolled into town. John Bledsoe doubted that Dillon was even alive at this point, but at least they had brought his body home and that, he thought grimly should be some comfort to his widow.

Though not one of the three gave it a thought, it was Thanksgiving Day. Dodge City, unaware the Marshal's life hung somewhere between heaven and hell, went about their preparations. The womenfolk were up earlier than usual on this particular morning. Turkeys were being stuffed with secret ingredients from recipes passed from one generation to the next. Pumpkin and mincemeat pies, already baked were cooling on windowsills and their aromas drifted into the streets. Freshly kneaded dough for sweet rolls lay in cracked bowls set to rise by the warmth of the stove. The enticing aromas roused the sleepiest of heads and brought growls to the stomachs of the men folk in anticipation of the day's feast.

Fred Deuth was one such man, he emerged from his outhouse, just in time to see the medical wagon pass by. He buckled his trousers and followed out of curiosity, Ed Tate had finished milking the family cow when he saw the group pass, he left the milk pail at the back door and ran to the street to walk beside Fred. Felix Creydt had snatched a piece of pumpkin pie and had taken it out to the back stoop to sample when he saw the wagon. Nosiness drew him to the entourage. Citizens of Dodge all along the route stopped what they were doing to follow behind the wagon carrying Matt Dillon. When the wagon's mission became apparent, a pall of sadness fell over the followers. They were quiet and somber as if part of a funeral procession. By the time the wagon stopped in front of Doc Adams' office there were close to twenty people forming a protective prayer watch. They asked no questions, but stood back respectfully as the closest friends of Matt Dillon took care of him.

The wood board the lawman was lying on was slid carefully from the wagon. Nathan Burke grabbed the end bearing the bulk of the Marshal's weight and steadied it until Festus and Newly were able to take the other end of the stretcher. The trip up the flight of stairs was a tedious journey; the dead weight of the Marshal's body strained the tired muscles of the men. The thought that even the slightest jar could still bring pain to Matt caused them to move with infinite care. Doc Adams stood at the top of the flight of stairs and held the door open.

**GS GS GS**

Much to her amazement, Kitty had slept that night. Sleep came as if the gentle hand of an angel had answered a prayer. The kindly spirit led her to Silver Creek and memories of loving times. In her dream she was once more in his arms, like a drug for a weary heart, the dream provided tonic for her battered soul. It served to remind her of the steadfastness of the love they shared; unconditionally and without end. The journey strengthened her, filing her with the courage to face what lay ahead. Now she took her place beside Doc's desk watching as they carried her husband in the room. Unconsciously she folded her arms across her stomach to shield her unborn child from the horror she watched.

Tom Lynott moved to her side and took her hand in his. Like Matt, the Sheriff was a man of few words, but at times like this words became unnecessary and it was action that carried weight.

His friends gently lowered the stretched to the top of the operating table in the center of the room. The pair of physicians went to work together, and began their examination. It was immediately clear to both men the first priority had to be the removal of the bullet. But in Matt's shocked and weakened condition it was unlikely he'd survive the necessary surgery. Doc Adams was grief stricken; he knew Matt's chances to be dismal with any scenario. For Kitty's sake, he masked his own emotional pain.

The bullet had lodged in the lumbar area of the spinal column. The exact location was an inch lower than the wound he had suffered some four years earlier. Matt had come close to being paralyzed back then, if by some miracle he survived this, could he avoid paralysis a second time? It was too much for the old man to think about he pushed all of the `ifs' from his mind and concentrated on the `now.'

Her husband's bloody torn clothing was cut from his body, his boots cut from his feet. She stared in a determined daze as he lay helpless and naked before her. A white flannel blanket had been warming by the stove and she quickly retrieved it for him. Both doctors stepped back to allow her the briefest of moments to lovingly cover him with the warmed cloth. This small act completed, she returned to the desk side to continue her silent watch. The room turned deathly quiet with the only sounds that of the medical tools as Dr. Bledsoe readied the surgical tray. The two healers, one old and the other young began working their trade; each reading the other perfectly, no words were exchanged or even needed between them. Like a heavenly sanctification, morning sunlight streamed through the window to give light to their painstaking effort.


	7. Chapter 7

**Seven**

Outside the sorrowful song of a lone mourning dove could be heard, the bird's lonesome lament for her mate went unanswered. Though the sky remained a clear blue, cold northerly winds blew through the remaining leaves on a weeping willow and whispered through the needles of a white pine. A crowd had gathered at the steps of the doctor's office, their breath could be seen as they exchanged quiet conversation. Thanksgiving Day dinners had been left untouched as Dodge City awaited word on the fate of its Marshal.

**GS GS GS**

Silence hung in the room with only the steady ticking of the wall clock to interrupt their prayers. Matt Dillon had survived surgery. His condition too tremulous to chance a move he still lay on the operating table. His pale face rested on a flat pillow and was turned in the direction of his wife. His breathing was shallow and his pulse irregular. But, he was alive and that in itself was cause for Thanksgiving.

Kitty Dillon sat in a chair at his side, her hand covering his. She felt numb and only a vague awareness of the other occupants of Doc Adam's office. From time to time she would reach out and stroke his head, letting her fingers pause to caress the curls at the nape of his neck. The thought occurred to her that he needed a haircut, he always hated it when his hair grew so long that it curled at the ends. To Kitty the curls were endearing, in her eyes they made him look almost boyish; as he had when she'd first met him.

"I want you to rest now Kitty," Doc said firmly his voice interrupting her quiet reverie.

She turned to look at him, a fragile smile lifting the corners of her mouth, "I am resting."

The doctor narrowed his eyes and studied her weary features, clearing his throat he offered, "Would you like me to talk with Christopher?"

She started to rise, "I forgot all about him, he'll need me."

Doc's firm hand held her in place." It's alright, you stay with Matt, John's here if you need him, I'll go have a talk with the boy."

She nodded and he left her there with her hand to Dillon's providing his connection with life.

**GS GS GS**

Christopher Greenwood sat at Ma Smalley's kitchen table. There was a bowl of untouched oatmeal and a class of milk at his place. The smell of turkey roasting in the oven filed the room, "How long till it's done Ma?" He asked.

The older woman was sitting next to him at the big old table, a bowl of freshly peeled potatoes to one side and a pile of unpeeled potatoes to the other. She looked up from her work to give the boy an encouraging smile, "Oh well, he's a mighty big bird, it'll take along time, so you'd best get some breakfast in that stomach of yours."

Obediently he took a mouthful of the cereal she'd prepared and swallowed, but he hated the taste of oatmeal and besides he was worried. Ma had told him Festus and Newly had brought Marshal back and Miss Kitty was with him at the doctor's office. When he'd asked if he could go over to Doc's she had replied a little harshly, "No, they don't need a little boy underfoot right now, and I can use your help in the kitchen, we're going to have a full house for dinner today, six boarders and Miss Pry; you're going to be my right hand man."

He sighed and pushed the bowl away from him, "I can't eat anymore Ma."

"Suit yourself, but don't come crying to me when your stomach starts complaining in an hour or so." Ma could see worry on his face and she didn't want to give him time to fret, "Clear the table and then you can go out and bring in some fire wood."

"Yes'm" he replied, his movements echoed his melancholy as grabbed his jacket and left by the kitchen door just as there was a knock at the front entrance. Ma wiped her hands on her apron and went to answer the door. "Why Doctor Adams, what are you doing here," but even as she said the words a horrible thought came to her mind and it showed on her face, "Oh my… the Marshal, he isn't dead… is he?"

"No, he's still with us," he looked down at his feet and then back up at Ma, "Where's Christopher?"

"He's out back bringing in the firewood." She lowered her voice so her boarders wouldn't be able to overhear, "Doc… how is the Marshal?"

"It doesn't look good, I want to talk with the boy, kind of prepare him."

"Oh…" an involuntary sob escaped from Ma's mouth, "That little boy can't face anymore sorrow." She brought the hem of her apron to her eyes to dab the tears.

Doc nodded, "You said he's out back?" he asked already moving past her.

The porch off the kitchen was Ma's refuge. It was just large enough for two wicker chairs and offered Mrs. Smalley a calming view of her gardens. Adams stood on the porch and watched Christopher fill the wood basket, testing it every so often before adding another log to the pile. When it was full he turned and started toward the house, it was then that he saw Doc. He was startled at first, then dropped the basket and ran to the old man's waiting embrace. The child's arms reached around Doc's waist as he buried his head in the old gentleman's vest. He wasn't crying but his body was tense in apprehension.

It struck both old man and young boy that this moment was so very like the morning he'd found out about his mother's death. Adams gently pried himself free of Christopher's hold, and said, "Let's sit down, son, I want to talk to you." They walked the few steps to the wicker rocking chair where the old man sat down and then pulled Chris to his lap as he had when the boy was younger. They sat there quiet like for a bit, as Adams gave him a chance to collect his thoughts.

Finally he asked, "Where's Miss Kitty?" knowing the answer to this simple question would answer the larger one he was afraid to ask.

"She's with Marshal," he replied softly, letting Christopher take the lead in this conversation.

As a toddler he'd always been intrigued by Doc's pocket watch. There was something comforting and empowering about the way the heavy gold felt in his hand, solid, cool with enough weight to add substance to its function. On occasion Doc had let him hold the timepiece, and work the tiny button which operated the spring that made the cover pop open. This day Christopher extracted the watch from Doc's pocket without the old man's consent. Holding it in the center of his palm he studied its size, before pressing the button to open the cover. Inside, fancy scroll decorated the hands, and the numbers were like none he'd seen elsewhere. There were words engraved on the inside cover but he couldn't read them. Holding the watch up by its chain he watched it spin in a dizzying twirl before he finally closed it shut, and returned it to Doc's pocket. Like a prizefighter preparing for a knockout punch, his small frame tensed as he asked, "Where's Marshal?"

"He's at my office; he was shot in the back. He's been badly injured."

The words came out of his mouth like a breath, "Is he going to die?"

Adams let his tired old head rest against the child. He inhaled the little boy scent of him. How could he tell Christopher the truth, and yet how could he not. The truth would tear him apart but to give him false hope would be cruelty beyond measure. "He might, I want you to know that. Dr Bledsoe and I removed the bullet, but he was alone on the prairie, his body is weak and tired."

"Like my Papa?" Christopher whispered.

"Yes." Adams old heart broke at the admission.

Chris buried his head in Doc's chest. He didn't want to cry, he didn't want to be a baby, his body shook with the effort to hold back his tears, but he couldn't contain them and finally like the breaking of a dam the tears rushed through. When the flood had passed he raised his head to ask, "Does he hurt?"

Adams held him tighter; "I've given him medicine so it doesn't hurt."

Responsibility took hold of Christopher, like Marshal he had a duty, he was the man of the house, "Does Miss Kitty know he might die?"

Adams nodded, "She knows."

His chin rested on his chest before he looked up again, "Can I see him?"

"Later, when he's stronger."

"What ... what if there isn't a later?"

For a moment, Doc considered the courage it had taken to voice this question, he set the child gently on his feet and using his arms pushed himself from the chair.

"Let's go see Marshal," he pointed in the direction of the wood basket, "Better get that wood in to Ma first."

As Doc and Chris walked down Front Street the faithful citizens of Dodge opened a path way for them, the boy slowed his steps to match the old man's as they climbed the stairs together.


	8. Chapter 8

**Eight**

Even on such a day as this there were tasks which needed doing - for duty and obligation take no holiday for the dying. The badge Matt had pinned on his deputies all those years ago now weighed heavy against their chests.

Festus had left Doc's office and was on Front Street by the freight office giving directions to Burke and Halligan as they readied a team to bring back the remains of the Sharlows and Wagners. "If it weren't the way ol' Matthew'd a want it, I'd as soon leave them to the turkey buzzards, but that ain't the way Matthew'd a seen it…"

Newly O'Brien sat at the Marshal's desk preparing a preliminary report to be sent to Topeka. The young lawman found it difficult to concentrate and every so often he'd get up and walk around the office only to be haunted by the ghost of a man not yet dead.

Back at Doc's, Tom Lynott having had another dose of pain medicine was stretched out on the physician's bed. From time to time his drugged snores would filter through the door reassuring Adams that at least one lawman was keeping his bargain with life.

Frontier life was a lot different than Doc's partner had anticipated. The romanticism of the Penny Novels he'd grown up reading held little reality to true life in the Wild West. The last few days had caught up with John Bledsoe, with his head pillowed in his arms he'd fallen to a deep exhausted sleep at Doc's desk.

It was Kitty who remained by Matt's side, her love forming a protective shield around them both. Her voice was soft and meant only for his ears, "You're home Matt, you're safe, I'm here with you; you're not alone anymore…" She had thought he responded to her voice once. She had seen a brief flicker to his eyelids and once she'd felt a returning squeeze to her hand. But that had been hours ago. She studied his hand. She had always loved his hands; strong, yet ever gentle with her. She'd often thought they were meant for an artist or great musician for the fingers were long and graceful and at odds with his great hulking size. The hands of a working man, they had been hardened by calluses and the knuckles had grown disproportionately large. The hands of a loving man, they had comforted her grief, supported her in times of trouble and brought her to the height of passion. So tenderly she caressed his hand, touching the wedding ring she'd placed on his finger. "If you leave me now, what will we do?" She studied his face, imprinting every nuance to her soul so that it would always be there for her to see. She continued to stare at him as if in doing so she could will him back to her, "I need you…" she whispered, "oh how I need you…"

The door opened, looking up through tearless eyes, she saw Doc and Christopher. She reached her arm out to him and he hurried to her side. He had seen death up close and had held his own father's hand as he'd passed from one world to the next, so he needed no explanation of what was happening. She shifted position, allowing him to take a place in front of her. His little hands rested on the lawman's. Kitty leaned over and whispered in Matt's ear, "Chris is here Cowboy."

There was a flutter of his eyelids, reaction or reflex she couldn't be sure, but Chris held on tight. "It's me Marshal…" he looked back at Kitty and she nodded her head, "It's Thanksgiving Day, Ma's got the biggest turkey I've ever seen…" the voice inside his head wanted to cry out to the man, "_Don't die, please, please don't die_," he looked back to Kitty, she was biting her lip and he knew she was thinking the same thing. He forced words from his mouth instead of sobs, "You have to get better real soon, `member you said you'd take me hunting and…" light suddenly shown in Christopher's face and he turned to Kitty and said in an excited voice, "He squeezed my hand, he did, I felt him it; Marshal squeezed my hand."

Kitty's pulse quickened as she looked from Chris to Adams who had been standing by the door, "Doc?" He was already rushing over. He took Dillon's hand from the child.

"Matt, it's Doc, squeeze my hand Matt…" but there was nothing. His fingers moved to the wrist of the lawman and his expression grew grimmer. He placed the hand back to the table, and took off his glasses to rub his eyes. Kitty stared at him until finally he was forced to return her look; his only response was a slight shake of his head. She brought her fist to her mouth to silence a scream. The day wore on, sunshine refusing to acknowledge the coming of another long winter, warmed the room but not the hearts of those keeping vigil.

**GS GS GS**

Ma Smalley's elaborate Thanksgiving feast was served to a quiet table of boarders. Edsel Pry made an effort at small talk, but it appeared that no one's heart was completely into the art of conversation. It came as a relief when the pumpkin pie had finally been served and the rest of the dishes removed from the table.

Standing at the sink, Edsel Pry scraped the dishes before setting them in a rinse basin. She looked at Ma as she brought in another batch of dirty dishes and said, "I suspect they haven't had anything to eat all day, and you know in Miss Kitty's condition she needs nourishment…"

Ma agreed with a nod of her head, "I guess I'll just pack a basket, everything is still warm…" her voice trailed off. "I just hope they will eat something."

**GS GS GS**

Mrs. Smalley had always felt it her calling in life to make sure there were no empty stomachs; she contended that any life crisis was easier to bear with a full belly. Though she had heard a chorus of `no thank you,' she had accepted it not, and stood watch making sure that everyone keeping vigil in Doc's office had at least a taste of Thanksgiving Day dinner.

Kitty took Christopher's hand and led him to the older women, "Please help Ma carry the basket back to the boarding house." Leaning down she pulled him to her, "I want you to stay with Ma now, I'll see you later…" she kissed his cheek unable to finish. How could she tell a seven-year-old child she would be here until Matt no longer needed her? Then she realized she didn't need to tell him for he already knew.

Mrs. Smalley placed a hand on his shoulder but Chris broke from the hold and ran to Dillon's side. Standing on tiptoe he kissed the grizzled cheek, and finally the words he'd been holding back all day spilled out, "Don't die, please don't die Marshal, we need you … me and Miss Kitty we need you…Marshal, I never got the chance to tell you … to tell you something…"

With loving hands, Kitty turned the child around to face her, "It's alright little Cowboy, he knows, he knows you love him."

"Christopher." Ma said. He nodded his head and followed her to the door, turning as they left for one last look at the man on the table.


	9. Chapter 9

**Nine**

Her eyes burned with unshed tears, her head ached and her shoulders felt like tightly strung piano wires were holding them together. She kept her stoic gaze steady on Matt, her hand holding fast to whatever remained of his life.

For Doc Adams there was small comfort to sit in the old rocking chair, the one his father had made; the open Bible in his lap offering some comfort. Bledsoe had been watching Kitty and now he moved up behind Doc, he leaned over and whispered in his ear, "Galen, we have to do something about Mrs. Dillon, she can't keep this up much longer."

"Do you really thing she will need to?" was the old man's blunt reply. He turned his head to watch as one by one the closest friends of Matt Dillon came to say goodbye.

Tears trickled down the cheeks of Festus Hagen, he took out an old red bandana and wiped them away and blew his nose before stuffing the cloth back in his pocket. He laid his hand on Matt's shoulder and struggled to make the words come from his mouth, "Stay in the buggy Matthew, stay…"

Tom Lynott took his place, "Pard," he said shaking his head in disbelief, "If you go, what the hell am I gonna tell ol' Ferguson?" He was half laughing but as he continued to look at his friend, seeing the face of death, an anger began to build until it suddenly exploded, "Matt, Damn it, you can't die, what the hell do you think you're do'in, you can't die."

"Tom." Bledsoe said with a hand to Lynott's back, "Come on and sit down, I want to take another look at that shoulder."

Newly O'Brien couldn't find any words to say. How could words express the grief he was feeling? From their first meeting Matt Dillon had been a real life hero to him. He seemed possessed of indestructible strength and limitless courage, larger than life, a man of mythical courage and might. How could someone like that die? In the end, he bowed his head and prayed, not only for the soul of his friend, but for those he would leave behind.

Age and grief slowed Doc Adams as he rose from the old chair to walk to his patient's side. Mechanically his fingers encircled the large wrist; he detected the faintest trace of an erratic pulse. Taking off his glasses he studied Dillon's peaceful face and observed a change coming over his body as it prepared itself for the final passage. The old man walked back to the rocking chair and retrieved his Bible, he returned to his place by Matt's side next to Kitty. He opened the book to a favorite passage; he didn't need his glasses to read for his heart knew the words.

_The Lord is my shepherd_;

_I shall not want._

_He maketh me to lie down in green pastures;_

_He leadeth me beside the still waters._

_He restoreth my soul:_

_Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,_

_I will fear no evil: for Thou art with me._

_Thy rod and Thy staff they comfort me._

_Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies:_

_Thou anointest my head with oil;_

_My cup runneth over._

_Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life;_

_And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever._

**GS GS GS**

The journey had been a long one, Matt Dillon was tired, but the pain that had tormented his body had finally left. In the distance was the light – its beauty almost blinding - its power near hypnotic. With his every step he felt life's burdens slip away. He could make out images as he neared his destination of angelic smiles sublimely familiar as they waited to welcome him to his heavenly home. Peace filed his heart, and he could feel his soul begin to soar. Now, into this peace came the intrusion of mortal words and he was angered by this. He tried to block the words from his mind.

"Yeah thou I walk through the valley… through the valley… valley…" The words reverberated in his mind like an echo coming back again and again. There was something about those words that was destroying the peace. He felt the burden of life trying to intrude on his heavenly soul – but it was more than that- it was the word valley - that word valley - pulling him back so that he turned around to look in the direction from which he had come. He saw them in the distance, far far away yet their faces so clear that it was as though they were right in front of him.

Beloved Kitty dressed in his favorite blue gingham gown, her auburn hair bound by a ribbon of the same hue, her beautiful face glowing like a ray of morning sunshine. Christopher close to her side, a look of trust in his eyes; his small shoulders already squared - prepared to carry life's burdens. Matt raised his eyes to look at Kitty again; it was then that he noticed the babe in her arms. The child was the likeness of a cherub, her sweet face framed by delicate red curls; He could make out the details of her features clearly. Her eyes were round as saucers and blue as a clear summer sky. He watched, as if spellbound as her chubby arms stretched out and her dimpled hands reached for him.

Matthew Dillon knew he had a choice, he could go to the light, he would be received and life's burdens would never be his again, but looking at his family he realized that neither would life's delights. It was then that he heard the song, the words so simple and sweet as though a chorus of angels were singing to him.

"_And when we find ourselves in the place just right… t'will be in the valley of love and delight… When true simplicity is gained to bow and to bend we shan't be ashamed to turn, turn will be our delight… Till by turning, turning we come round right_"

The `valley of love and delight … the valley…

He glanced back one last time at the light, letting its peace and beauty enfold him. He turned round and started his journey back to those who needed him. With each step his pain increased, with each step his burden grew, with each step the clarity of the light faded until his reality was the pain, but with each step his heart filled with joy, and that joy would make the long journey bearable.

**GS GS GS**

Doc Adams closed the Bible and set it down. He moved to Dillon's body. He was sure that this time when he checked for a pulse he would find none. The vigil would be over. Not a sound could be heard in the room. As if in respect for their fallen friend all others for that moment had stopped breathing too.

Doc looked at Kitty still sitting so straight and strong. He felt a sorrow in his heart for the grief she must now endure. Kitty's lips trembled and this time, she didn't attempt to stop the tears. She brought her husband's hand one last time to her lips, not yet willing to release it to Doc Adams. She opened Matt's palm and placed it against her cheek, holding it there. Her shoulders shook as the full reality of the situation consumed her. Her voice quavered as she whispered her parting words of devotion. "Oh Matt, I love you, where ever you are now, please know that I will always love you."

Then his hand held lovingly against her cheek moved ever so slightly as he wiped away her tears of grief.


End file.
